


they are yours (all for you)

by s_c_writ



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Floriography, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OT4, hanakotoba, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_c_writ/pseuds/s_c_writ
Summary: "By the time the fit is over, there’s five beautiful petals on the old wood of the dock, spattered with tears that had forced their way out and under his glasses."Ignis falls in love and reaps the consequences.





	they are yours (all for you)

The first time it happens, Ignis has only seen fifteen years. 

 

He and Noctis are on a rare fishing trip with King Regis and Clarus Amicitia and a few more lurking Crownsguard in Duscae. When the idea had been proposed, Noctis agreed quickly, only to beg and plead to his father that his beloved “Iggy” be able to come with. The young prince, with his doe eyes and pouty lips that persist through the early stages of puberty, is truly a force to be reckoned with when he desperately wants something, so it comes to no surprise to anyone, least of all the king’s retainers, when it’s passed around that Ignis Scientia, advisor-in-training and Crownsguard-in-training, will be coming along for the weekend outing. Gladio had been invited, but due to his accelerated Shield training, he had been forced to stay behind go through a rigorous training period instead. 

 

The sun is just starting to set over the horizon. Noctis and Regis have been fishing for hours now, more or less in silence, with a nearly-full bucket between them boasting of their skill. The thirteen year-old prince yawns slightly and leans against his friend and retainer, who had stayed by his side the entire time, content to catch up on pleasure reading. From muscle memory, Ignis lifts his arm, allowing Noctis to more comfortably lean against his chest and settle his head upon the groove where Ignis’ neck meets his shoulder. Their quiet moment’s only soundtrack is the quiet lapping of gentle waves against the shore of the lake, various bugs and birds in the surrounding wildlife, and Clarus tromping around their campsite, grumbling to a few of the other Crownsguard about not getting a proper shower.

 

Ignis looks down, and his eyes are caught and held in place by the gentle curve of a porcelain brow, wispy raven-colored hair fluttering in the slight breeze, and the smallest of smiles hinted at by the asymmetrical curve of rosebud lips. His breath catches in his chest, and a sudden, burdening weight slams onto his chest at the same time a vague realization cements in the recesses of his mind.

 

Noctis is startled upright when Ignis begins to cough. It starts harmless enough, but soon dissolves into a rough, painful hacking that has Regis turning around and gesturing for Clarus to pay attention.

 

Ignis himself notices none of this. His lungs feel too tight, and hot tears prick at the edges of his vision as something solid works its way through his windpipe. The now forgotten book is cast aside and he doubles over, vision swimming behind his glasses as he chokes. He faintly hears Noctis’ voice getting slightly farther away, but it’s put out of his mind by a solid, warm hand thumping on his back. 

 

The wiry teenager gags once before a violent cough expels whatever was blocking his lungs. He opens his eyes and pinches the pristine white rose petal between shaking fingers to hold closer to his face. There’s a muttered curse beside him, but when Ignis looks up, he’s met with only the kind, concerned visage of his king. The bearded man says something that doesn’t register beyond the roaring in his ears, but when an eyebrow is cocked at him, Ignis manages to nod, hoping to satisfy the monarch. It must have been the wrong answer, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by Noctis barreling back down the dock to his friend.

 

Mossy green eyes meet electric blue ones, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. His fist closes around the petal, undoubtedly crushing it, and Noctis steps forward slowly. Ignis smiles shakily, and the prince takes that as his cue to close the distance and hug him, mumbling a question about his health.

 

As soon as he tries to answer, Ignis feels the same sensation of blockage in his windpipe and turns away from Noctis slightly to cough, trying and failing to stifle it. Clarus takes Noctis gently by the arm and leads him away while Regis closes in and rubs the teen’s back while he chokes on vicious coughs that shake his entire body. By the time the fit is over, there’s five beautiful petals on the old wood of the dock, spattered with tears that had forced their way out and under his glasses.

 

Warm, gentle hands help him stand, and in his dazed state, Ignis misses Regis picking up the petals and slipping them into his own pocket, a pinch forming between his brows.

 

Ignis doesn’t remember much of the ride back to the Citadel, only that he and Noctis were separated and that he spent the hours in the company of Marshall Cor Leonis, who had a carefully neutral look about him and offered him water periodically. Upon arriving back to the capital, Ignis is rushed through hallways and into the vaguely familiar infirmary where countless tests are run to check his breathing, as well as an x-ray, as ordered by King Regis himself. His Majesty hasn’t left Ignis’ side since they arrived, and the hand-in-training is too exhausted to be embarrassed by the fatherly hand that smooths his hair from his eyes and tells him to rest while the test results are being looked over.

 

He must have obeyed, because the next thing he registers is the arrival of two bowing doctors and a harried-looking nurse. Ignis pushes himself up into a sitting position and pats around for his glasses. Regis hands them to him with a soft smile, and Ignis shakily returns it before looking at the doctors warily.

 

In the end, it’s Regis that does most of the talking, because Ignis seems to have lost his voice. It doesn’t help that he breaks out into another coughing fit that produces another half dozen rose petals that are immediately whisked away for testing, or that he shows clear confusion at what the doctors ascribe to his condition before they launch into a long-winded explanation that has his mind reeling.

 

_ Whole-hearted, unrequited love. Daily medicine. No contact for two weeks. Fatal. _

 

When Ignis comes back to his senses, the medical professionals have cleared out and been replaced by a grim-looking Clarus looking to Regis for direction. The king simply fits a hand into Ignis’ hair and pets it back a few times, his eyes sad.

 

“Please….don’t tell anyone.”

 

The young retainer’s voice is hoarse and scratchy, and it’s a lot harder to breathe than normal, but it seems to have gotten the message across, because both Regis and Clarus incline their heads in understanding before they have to leave to attend to the necessary preparations.

 

A young doctor comes by later with a bottle of prescription pills in a nondescript bottle and strict orders to follow the enclosed directions without fault. Her face is stern when she emphasizes that his brief separation from the young prince is integral to the healing process and that under no circumstances is he to disobey, because they will know. Ignis nods faintly and closes his hand around the bottle before closing his eyes and letting himself rest back against the thin pillows.

 

Ignis had expected the next two weeks of separation from Noctis to be the most painful thing he’d ever done. After all, they’d been together for nearly eight years at that point. But, whether because of the medication or denial of the situation, Ignis feels...nothing. He cares only about getting back to his work and proving that this isn’t the end of him like the doctors had said it could be, had the growing flowers inside him been left untreated. Since starting the medicine, Ignis has only coughed up a couple petals, and when the two weeks have passed, it’s been numerous days. 

 

His reunion with Noctis is a subdued affair where he accepts and returns the tight, worried hug, and assures his prince that he has come back into his health and intends to remain there for the foreseeable future. The ever-present shadow that Gladio has become eyes him curiously from the other side of the room, but he merely nods before leading Noctis over to his desk and encouraging him to continue the work given to him by his tutors.

  
  


❀❀❀

  
  


The second time, Ignis is eighteen.

 

It’s months in between shriveled white rose petals, and Ignis is fortunate enough that it has only happened in situations that his excuses to leave the room aren’t questioned, and he’s been left in peace to dispose of them. If the king or his shield happens to be around, they distract Noctis while his retainer slips out of the room and returns before the young prince even knows he’s left. In his training to be a formal member of Noctis’ Kingsglaive, Cor had found out after a particularly rough hit to Ignis’ chest that had a few petals fluttering up and out as he retched on the ground.

 

However much he detested having to do so, he explained briefly to the Marshal of his condition, pointedly remarking that Regis and Clarus were aware and leaving out the name of the focused, unrequited love. Cor had just blinked and nodded before helping him up and explaining how he could have avoided the hit he had taken.

 

While Cor is out on fieldwork, Gladio has taken over the finalization of his training, and because of that, they’ve begun spending time together outside of the training grounds. At first, Ignis was wary and almost shy of the hulking mass of the prince’s shield, but he had quickly warmed up to him after having a few lengthy conversations and being privy to some of his softer moments with his little sister. Ignis and Gladio become fast friends when they actually begin to talk, and it’s plain to anyone that Noctis is pleased with this development.

 

Walking through the Citadel, it’s rare to see one without the other two, the young prince always flanked by his two best friends that conveniently double as his retinue. 

 

In hindsight, Ignis really should have seen it coming. 

 

Cor has returned and resumed training Ignis for his final combat tests, and Gladio is not an uncommon sight wandering around during their sparring sessions, whistling and whooping at both of them as they blur into flashes of weapons and quick movements. The young advisor favors daggers and polearms, whereas the Marshal is a master swordsman, and their combination makes for interesting and unpredictable fights.

 

Dripping with sweat, Ignis straightens up momentarily before launching himself to the side, lithe muscles helping him twist midair as he flings his daggers away and summons his lance, driving it directly towards Cor’s exposed flank. A flash of blue sparks signals his lack of contact, but Ignis simply forces one more rotation before landing on his feet in a crouch and summoning his daggers just in time to block a swipe of a shortsword from taking out his eyes. Cor grins at him before warping backwards. 

 

A shout of encouragement from Gladio on the side just barely makes its way through Ignis’ fierce concentration, and Cor uses that split second to flash forward and slam Ignis with his shoulder. The young advisor flips out of the way, but not enough. His own shoulder is caught and dislocated as he’s thrown aside, back slamming into one of the columns lining the room. Ignis drops his daggers as all the breath is knocked out of him, and they disappear back into the Armiger with a flash of blue magic, but he can’t summon them again. 

 

Ignis crumples into a heap at the bottom of the column and coughs roughly, desperately trying to drag in enough air as his vision swims in front of him. In less than a heartbeat, Cor is kneeling beside him and propping him back up against the marble structure. Ignis, with shaking limbs, heaving for breath in between vicious coughs that he recognizes, desperately looks from Cor to Gladio, imbuing the look with as much meaning as he possibly can. The Marshal, may the Six bless the man, turns around and tells Gladio to back off and tell the Infirmary that he’s coming before looking over Ignis again. 

 

The young man has forced himself to his hands and knees, barely holding himself up with shaking limbs, drenched in sweat. Each cough forces out a mixture of soft white rose petals and dark purple gladiolus petals that are damning enough for their name. Cor shifts a little to completely block Ignis from view to anyone that may come in, and sets a hand on his back warily. 

 

His throat burns and feels close to raw as the petals force their way out of his lungs and fall into a small pile underneath him. The stark contrast of the purple on white makes him light-headed and upset, even as a deep part of his subconscious marvels at the beauty and composition of the mixture. 

 

When his breath comes a little easier and the petals have ebbed away, Ignis sits back on his feet and closes his eyes wearily. He revels in the silence for a moment before opening them again and scraping the proof of his ill heart into a small pile that he sets on fire with a touch of an enchanted dagger. The petals burn away quickly, and the ashes fade into oblivion with a single breath, leaving no trace of his love except a raw throat and weary heart.

 

It’s a testament to how humiliated he is that Ignis does not protest Cor helping him up and walking him all the way to the Infirmary. He smiles faintly at Gladio and waves him off, feeling Cor’s knowing gaze on him all the while. The shield reluctantly leaves, and only to pick up Noctis from school in Ignis’ stead, as he will likely be in the Infirmary for a good while.

 

A potion fixes his dislocated shoulder and subsequent bruising without any issue, but the x-rays that come after are what makes Ignis wish his heart was hard. It’s simple enough for the doctors to get samples, as the young retainer cannot help but cough up a couple of each petal every few minutes, wheezing a little bit after they come up.

 

A young nurse gives him something to take the edge of the pain off, and he lays back to wait for it to kick in, moss-green eyes unfocusing in the harsh white light of the exam room. He must have dozed off a little bit, because when he comes to, Regis and Clarus have joined Cor. The king sits on the edge of Ignis’ bed and gives him a soft, sad look when he notices Ignis looking at him sleepily, and pats his arm gently. 

 

The head doctor comes in when Cor lets her know that Ignis is awake, and comes with petri dishes: one containing a soft white rose petal, the other a perfect gladiolus petal. To avoid the inevitable, Ignis closes his eyes again and does his best to sink into the thin pillow, willing his face to stay normal instead of coloring in embarrassment. The only thing that makes him face it is Regis squeezing his forearm lightly. The king’s eyes are impossibly sad, but the worst part is that Ignis knows they’ve put the pieces together. Clarus is staring at him, carefully neutral, and Cor just looks restless, as if he wishes he were anywhere but in the small room, standing over a boy that loves so much that it can kill him.

 

It’s shown through the recent x-rays that there is a second plant growing in his lungs, intertwined with the first, smaller rose bush. Ignis stares blankly at the photos, at the proof of the physical manifestation of feelings he’s been trying so hard to repress, and wills them out of existence to no avail. The doctor recommends that the best course of action is to increase the dosage of his medication to compensate for the growth.

 

In the end, it’s Cor who asks why they don’t just forcibly remove the plants from his lungs. By removing the plants, it is true that the love would be removed, and the danger of Ignis suffocating, but it would also remove any feeling or memory tied to the person, or in this case, people. Regis opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by another coughing fit coming from the weary boy on the bed. This one lasts far longer than any of them are accustomed to, and it leaves him with several small, but full gladiolus flowers and a single rosebud cradled in his hand like precious items.

 

If anything more is said about the removal, Ignis doesn’t hear it. He’s given the first of the higher dose right then and there, along with another pain reliever mixed with a sleep aid to help him rest through the uncomfortable shrinking and shriveling of the stems.

 

When he wakes again, the room is empty save a single slumped figure leaning over and napping with his head on the bed by Ignis’ arm. Noctis’ breathing is slow and steady, and he’s still in his school uniform. It takes a considerable amount of effort, but Ignis raises his hand and gently places it on top of the young prince’s soft head of hair, silently thanking him for his presence. Where there would usually be a soft warmth spreading through him, there’s nothing. The medicine has started to work, and better than it had before. Ignis slips back down into sleep, just in time for the prince’s shield to sneak into the room and take residence in the chair by the door to intently keep watch over his two best friends.

 

 

❀❀ ❀

 

 

Nothing could have prepared Ignis for his medication-induced apathy. 

 

Where he used to enjoy cooking for Noctis and reading books lent to him by Gladio, in that place sits nothing but emptiness. He still does both, and continues to partake in whatever pastime the two of them convince him to join them in, but it doesn’t change the fact that he gets no enjoyment out of it. Noctis has begun to notice his changed mood, and inquires about his well-being at least once a day, crystalline eyes searching his for answers. Everytime, without fail, Ignis will smile at him and tell the young prince that he’s perfectly alright. 

 

A month of this apathy, the emptiness, the lack of desire to do anything he once loved, and he’s had enough. He returns to the same doctor while Noctis is in class and he has time between meetings. His description of the side-effects of the medication worries the young medical professional, and she immediately assures him that they’ll lower the dosage slowly so that he doesn’t have to experience any ill effects that come from changing medication. His only response is a nod and polite request that it happen as soon as is convenient for her and her colleagues before he gathers his small bag and heads to the next meeting on his timetable.

 

Sure enough, sitting on his table in his private apartment within the Citadel that evening is the new medication, discreet in a plain paper bag that bears no emblem of the Citadel to attract attention. 

 

With the lower dosage, the petals do come back. Alongside the petals, his emotions return. Ignis once again finds joy in cooking and baking for Noctis and helping him with his lessons and enjoys reading the novels that pass between him and Gladio on a weekly basis. When he’s mostly returned to himself, Noctis takes notice and smiles at him softly, which startles a few petals up a few minutes later, safe within the confines of the restroom. 

 

Ignis is able to happily help Noctis move into his own apartment away from the Citadel and make sure he eats well. His heart feels as though it has grown wings and soared jubilantly into the sky when Noctis has made a true, normal friend away from his heritage, and he welcomes Prompto happily whenever they cross paths in Noctis’ apartment. Sometimes, his love for the prince and his shield suffocates him, and he has to excuse himself for a few moments with a carefully-crafted excuse of washing up before preparing for dinner. Thanks to their nature of trusting him, neither Gladio nor Noctis suspect anything, not even when Ignis is doubled over in the farthest bathroom and coughing up shriveled little flowers into the toilet, his eyes watering from the strain of keeping himself quiet.

  
  


❀❀❀

 

 

At twenty years of age, everything catches up to him in the worst possible way.

 

Prompto has become a constant, welcome fixture in Noctis’ apartment, lighting up any space he steps foot into with his bright personality and azure eyes. Ignis has a deep appreciation and respect for him for overcoming Noctis’ status to be friends with him and treat him like the normal human he is, because that had proved to be too much to anyone else. His ready smile and quick laugh bring more smiles to Noctis, and in turn, his retainers.

 

It comes as no surprise to Ignis, then, when bright, beautiful red poppies show up alongside the rose and gladiolus petals. The extra plant puts a heavy weight on his chest, and that weight is only amplified when the same kind doctor tells him that it would be dangerous for them to increase his medication any more than it is at that moment. He leaves that meeting drained and feeling empty, only to be summoned to the king’s private office.

 

Upon his arrival, Ignis stares intently at the gilded doorknob before forcing himself to turn it and enter. Regis is sitting in his chair behind his desk and tracks his every movement, a damning manila folder bearing Ignis’ name placed on the polished mahogany. A regal hand gestures for him to sit, and the young man obeys after giving him a polite bow.

 

The folder is flipped open to reveal samples of all three flowers, and Ignis averts his eyes, embarrassed at his own inability to keep a lock on his heart.

 

“Please, do not be ashamed.”

 

He jerks his head up quickly to meet Regis’ kind eyes, reassured by the gentle smile sent his way. Clarus is in the back of the room at his post, but comes forward when prompted. Ignis’ face flames red when the petals are presented, and he desperately tries, to no avail, to hold back the coughing fit that seizes his lungs at that moment. He gathers control once more, only to see a small pile of mixed flower petals on his lap. The king and his shield say nothing, but Clarus presents him with a glass of water that he takes gratefully, letting the cool water soothe his burning throat.

 

When asked how he would like to proceed, Ignis forces himself to take a deep, difficult breath before answering, his voice as steady as he can make it.

 

“I will not part with my feelings, Majesty. However difficult it may become, I will handle it without any burden upon the focuses or yourself.”

 

A great sigh fills the room, and Ignis’ blood goes cold when Regis stands up and comes around to him. He quickly stands, preparing to be punished, but is instead wrapped in a warm hug. Despite himself, Ignis feels a hot prickling behind his eyes and a tightness in his chest that has nothing to do with the plants and their residence in his lungs. Regis’ warm hand cradles the back of Ignis’ head as if he were a child, and that must be the tipping point, because the tears flood out at that point. 

 

Ignis lets out a single, choked sob into Regis’ shoulder, and slumps into his embrace as he cries silently, his own shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping quiet to maintain at least a shred of his dignity. Unbeknownst to him, Clarus sends a few texts to clear Ignis’ schedule of meetings for the day and gets Gladio to pick up Noctis and Prompto from the arcade so that the young advisor can take a little while to gather himself and rest.

 

As Ignis’ shaking settles down, Cor appears hour of seemingly nowhere to silently escort him to the carpark and all but force him into the Marshal’s own car. He ignores any and all protests that the young man can come up with, merely handing him a tissue when he begins to cough again, little petals floating from his lips even as he tries to cover them up. The ignored vibrating of his phone signals a multitude of incoming messages, mostly likely all from Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto as they realize something isn’t quite right with him.

 

Without asking, Cor drives him to Noctis’ apartment, seeming to know what he needs in that moment. They’ve beaten everyone there. Noctis’ assigned parking spot is still empty, and it only takes a brief thanks and wave before Cor is returning to the Citadel, leaving Ignis to make his way up into the apartment. 

 

After leaving his shoes by the front door in their usual spot, Ignis hangs his bag up and runs a hand through his hair wearily. There’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen and blankets strewn all over the couch, and the balcony door is standing wide open, sending a cool breeze through the apartment that Ignis welcomes despite it being through unwelcome circumstance. His first order of business is to gather up all the trash and sweep it into a large garbage bag that he deposits by the front door when it’s full to bursting. Ignis pauses by the door to the balcony to cough into his elbow a few times. A petal from each flower flutters down to the ground, landing between his socked feet. He sighs softly and bends to pick them up, shoving them in his pocket just in time for the door to burst open.

 

Prompto barrels in and over to Ignis, giving very little warning before he slams into Ignis’ chest, his thin arms wrapped tightly around the advisor. Ignis barely manages to avoid stumbling, and he wraps his arms around the blond in response, comfortingly petting the back of his hair. He quietly reassures him that he’s alright, just had an unplanned meeting with Regis. Sparkling blue eyes look up at him, framed by freckles and hair that Ignis could believe is imbued with sunlight. Ignis smiles softly at Prompto and repeats that he’s alright.

 

The blond nods and squeezes him gently before letting go and sheepishly making room for Noctis to shyly come forward. In contrast to Prompto’s enthusiasm, the young prince’s deep blue eyes are covered by soft raven-colored bangs that he has to look through to meet Ignis’ fond, emerald green ones. They share a quiet smile and nod before Noctis drags Prompto over to the couch, only for Gladio to grab one of their shoulders each and steer them towards the table with an order to do their homework.

 

When both of them whine, Ignis smiles, a corner of his mouth quirked up, and mouths a thank you to Gladio when he catches his eye. The taller man winks at him and sits the two younger ones down before patting their shoulders and settling himself on one of the chairs closeby. 

 

With all three of them absorbed in their own work, Ignis is left in peace to tidy the apartment and cough as quietly as he can into his elbow. Around the the time he usually starts dinner, Prompto is getting visibly antsy while trying to read, not even settling when Noctis sets a hand on his arm to stop his bouncing and leaving it there. Ignis smiles softly and invites him to come help chop some of the ingredients for their curry that night, and he readily agrees, giving the older one a grateful and sheepish smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. The advisor has to stop himself from pressing a kiss to his forehead, and chokes back coughs instead, directing the blond to what needs to be chopped and how before relieving Noctis of his studying so he can set the table. 

 

Gladio just eyes him knowingly and shakes his head with a smile before turning back to his novel, sprawled out comfortably in a plush armchair. Noctis sets out the dishes and utensils and sidles up to Ignis at the stove to lean against him and watch as he stirs the ingredients that Prompto had chopped into the thick soup. He grumbles something about vegetables and settles his head against his retainer’s shoulder, Prompto matching him on Ignis’ other side, thoroughly warming Ignis from the inside out.

 

It only becomes unbearable when Noctis nuzzles his shoulder to ease a tickle on his cheek. Ignis feels the tell-tale tightness of his lungs get even more constricted, and he hands the stirring spoon to Prompto with a quick smile before untying his apron and making his way to the restroom. 

 

Ignis is barely able to get into the more private bathroom and close the door behind him before he falls to his knees in front of the toilet and coughs, retching as the force triggers his gag reflex. Instead of the usual petals, full flowers gather in the water and soon cover the surface, despite his every atom trying to keep the coughing at bay. Drool hangs from his lip and strings to some of the flowers before he swipes it away, face flushed from exertion and embarrassment. A final red poppy settles on top before he flushes them away, and he sinks back onto his haunches and casts his eyes towards the ceiling. 

 

Movement catches his attention and Ignis freezes when he sees Prompto standing just inside the room, clearly distraught. His back is pressed against the closed door behind him, but he moves forward slowly when Ignis doesn’t shout at him, and silently fills a cup sitting by the sink with water and hands it to him. The advisor drinks it slowly, averting his eyes from the worried blond, and lets his shoulders slump down. Prompto comes to sit beside him and leans into him, his lower lip trembling as he tries to keep himself under control. He asks through a watery voice how long Ignis has been hiding the plant growth in his lungs, and makes a pained sound when he’s told that it’s been five years and only the king and his closest know other than the doctors.

 

Prompto promises to say nothing if that’s what Ignis wants, and is given a feathery kiss to the top of his head in response. Ignis’ hands are shaking even as he asks Prompto to make sure their dinner isn’t going to waste, and he stays on the floor another minute after the blond has gone to check, breathing deeply as he tries to regain his bearings. 

 

It’s unnerving how well both of them hide how unsettled and upset they are. Their dinner is a jovial affair, with Gladio ribbing Noctis for trying to pick around some of the finely-chopped vegetables and Prompto mock-betrayed at the idea that his best friend wouldn’t appreciate the hard work that went into cutting them that small so they wouldn’t offend “His Highness’ royal palette.” Ignis lets out a snort of laughter despite himself at that one and Prompto looks extra pleased with himself, even as Gladio roars with laughter between them. Noctis only grumbles but stops picking through the soup, letting his elbow rest against Prompto’s arm in a gesture of gratitude. 

 

Ignis smiles softly at them and stifles a cough, forcing himself to drink some water to force down the petals. He catches Prompto watching him from the corner of his eye, the blond keeping tabs even while he converses with Gladio about his running and how he can improve his fitness while he’s still in school. However worried he may be, Ignis is confident that Prompto will not sell him out.

  
  


❀❀❀

  
  


The plants have grown larger and larger, until Ignis is no longer able to breathe without wheezing or go a single day without choking on full blooms, each petal speckled with bright red blood from his raw, scraped throat. King Regis has tried to convince him to have them removed, but Ignis refuses each time, unable to bear the thought of being parted with something borne out of his love for the people most important to him. 

 

“Mr. Scientia, you are aware that if the source of these plants is neither removed nor resolved, that you will asphyxiate?”

 

“I am.”

 

Ignis is sitting on the usual examination bench in the Citadel infirmary, Cor in the corner as a stand-in for King Regis, who was in a debate with some Accordian delegates concerning their shared waters. The doctor sighs wearily and nods, settling a hand on Ignis’ shoulder before leaving the room. The Marshal is staring straight at the young advisor, but he simply tilts his chin up and meets the glaive’s eyes, a challenge lighting them. Cor simply averts his eyes and straightens up from where he had been leaning against the wall, nodding for Ignis to leave the room. 

 

He escorts the young man to Noctis’ apartment at his request, since driving has become more and more difficult recently. The flowers come so often and relentlessly now that he’s forced to either drive dangerously while coughing, or pull over every few minutes. Even during the short trip from the Citadel to the high-rise apartment building, he has filled a handkerchief with bloody blooms, his lips tinted red to match the color of the poppies. Blessedly, Cor says nothing and simply hands him a couple disposable tissues as Ignis leaves the car and heads to the elevator. 

 

Ignis’ small bag contains only some summarized reports for his charge and extra handkerchiefs. Whereas he used to arrive with ingredients to make the prince dinner, he now cannot manage even that much before he’s forced to lock himself in the bathroom and choke up the petals while Prompto distracts Noctis and goads him into being completely engrossed in whatever game they’ve been playing. Upon entering the apartment, Ignis knows he’s in for a lot of trouble, especially from the way that Prompto is staring at him, cerulean eyes huge and filled with an unspoken apology.

 

The blond has been faithfully covering for him and refusing to ask questions. He’s been successful so far at getting the prince and his shield to not notice Ignis’ unusual absences and had always taken care of the food while Ignis was on his knees in the bathroom, praying to the Six that the petals would stop. Now, Prompto is flanked by an excited Gladio and Noctis, who have their arms full of takeout and matching hopeful expressions on their faces. Ignis smiles tightly and toes his shoes off before properly entering the main room. 

 

He’s immediately bombarded with pleading for him to stay for dinner, Noctis shooting him through the heart with the soft mumble of Ignis being missed because he’s never around anymore for more than a couple minutes. The advisor sighs softly and wraps him up in a tight hug, gently petting through soft black hair as he agrees to stay for dinner, Gladio letting out a whoop of excitement behind them. Noctis just presses against Ignis and holds onto him tightly for a moment before letting go and backing up, his sapphire eyes slightly watery even as Prompto attempts to drag both Noctis and Gladio over to the couch. The oldest shrugs him off and wraps an arm around Ignis’ shoulders, tugging him in and resting his chin on the top of Ignis’ head, unaware of the way the advisor’s lungs tighten. 

 

“We’ve really missed ya, Ig…”

 

Ignis nods faintly, desperately trying to control his wheezing breath as he feels some of the flowers in his lungs bloom and more grow, trailing up into his windpipe. He squeezes Gladio’s side for a moment before wiggling out and dropping his bag on the floor, his face changing color slightly as his airflow is restricted even more. He whirls towards the closest bathroom, his breathing ragged and audible now, but he’s stopped by Gladio’s strong hand circling his wrist.

 

The advisor makes a weak sound of protest even as he wrenches his hand out of the shield’s grasp and stumbles his way into the small, dark room, barely managing to close and lock the door behind him as he collapses onto his knees in front of the toilet, immediately retching up full stalks of gladiolus blooms and fully-unfurled roses. There’s a banging on the door before Prompto’s wavering voice tells them to back off and just go back into the living room, and with every word said, Ignis produces a flaming red blossom, the color hiding the dark blood that’s beginning to coat the delicate petals.

 

He’s trembling as he wraps his arms around himself, his glasses fogged up with the damp heat of tears prickling at his eyes. Another cough and there’s a searing pain, as if something has sliced through his throat. His gag reflex triggers and he barely manages to lean over as an impossible amount of flowers and blood spatter the clear water of the toilet bowl, strings of bloody drool connecting from his lip to one of the thorny roses. His vision blurs as the tears fall and are caught on his glasses, but Ignis can’t find it in himself to care enough to clear them. 

 

A shaky hand barely manages to reach into his pocket and find his phone before he’s coughing again, deep, hacking coughs that are bringing up more and more blood and less and less relief. Ignis sends a short text to Cor before forcing himself up, refusing to look at the flowers as he sends them to the sewers. 

 

Outside, Prompto had managed to drag Gladio and Noctis away from the door and to the couch, but he’s pale as a sheet and keeps wringing his hands. Gladio growls at him to spit it out and tell them what’s going on, and Noctis shakily threatens to make it a royal order, the blond shrinking down under their gazes.

 

“Iggy’s been coughing up...flowers. It’s a disease called Hanahaki Disease and...it only happens when the person is in what they believe to be unrequited love.”

 

Noctis goes terrifyingly still, and Gladio straightens, demanding to know what kinds of flowers and how Prompto knows about it.

 

“I...I just walked in on him coughing them up in the bathroom but he looked so sad… I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone…”

 

“Prompto. Tell me what flowers.”

 

Gladio’s voice is dangerously low, and Prompto trembles a little, casting his eyes back towards the bathroom where Ignis has locked himself.

 

“Um… White roses, little purple things with kinda pointy petals, and little red ones with black in the middle.”

 

The shield is quiet for a moment before horror floods his face.

 

“White roses...love and devotion. That’s gotta be Noct.”

 

The prince jerks as if he’s been hit, his hand clenching into a fist.

 

“Little purple...gladioli…”

 

He pauses to swallow.

 

“Grace and charm… My namesake.”

 

They hear the flush of a toilet, and Prompto’s never heard Gladio so shaky.

 

“Red with black in the middle… Probably red poppies. Fun-loving… That has to be you, Prom.”

 

The bathroom door opens, and they all stand as Ignis appears.

 

The normally graceful and strong young man is almost doubled over, his breathing ragged and labored as he leans against the wall on the way to the front door. The room is silent around them save the sound of his breathing.

 

“Iggy.”

 

Noctis’ voice is quiet, but the advisor still stops dead.

 

“Please.”

 

All at once, the quiet is broken as Ignis collapses. There’s a flash of blue magic as Noctis warps over to him just in time to catch him and break his fall. He’s shaking all over and coughing, but it’s all weak. Prompto shoves his way forward and turns Ignis so he’s propped up and leaning over a little.

 

“I’m sorry, Iggy…”   
  


He reaches a hand into his mouth and forces himself to have a steady hand when his fingers meet soft plant growth. The blond scoops out what seems to be a never-ending stream of flowers, all exactly what Gladio thought they were, and piles them up behind him, alarmed at how much blood is on his hand. When it finally seems like Ignis can breathe, there’s an insistent knocking on the door before a key turns the lock and Cor lets himself into the apartment. He curses quietly when he sees the situation in front of him, but bends and picks up Ignis. The young advisor has sunk into unconsciousness and is barely breathing as the Marshal hurries out of the door, leaving the three young men sitting on the floor, surrounded by bloody blooms that are the proof of Ignis’ love for them.

 

Noctis has shut down. He’s kneeling on the ground, a single, thorned rose held in his hand, and the blood rushing in his ears. Around him, Gladio and Prompto hurry to clean it up and grab things so they can follow Cor to the Citadel, but Noctis heads none of it. His finger strokes along the edge of the rose, gathering the smallest amount of blood on it from where it had stained the bloom. 

 

Prompto kneels by Noctis and sets a hand on his arm gently, skating up the length of it until he’s cupping his cheek. The prince closes his eyes and leans into the touch, a single tear streaking down his cheek. Prompto quickly wipes it away and gathers him into a tight hug, eyes huge as Noctis just slumps into him and starts to sob. Gladio quickly comes over as well, his face twisted up in what looks like a grimace, but what Prompto has come to recognize as concern. 

 

“Noct…”

 

“I love him… Why is this happening?”

 

Prompto just holds him tighter, petting his hair softly as Gladio crouches down. 

 

“Let’s talk about it on the way to the Citadel.”

 

It takes their combined effort to get Noctis down to the garage and into Gladio’s car, and Prompto has to stay in the back and hold him so he doesn’t just shut down again.

 

A deep sigh comes from the driver’s seat as they merge onto the highway.

 

“I love him too.”

 

“Me too…”

 

Prompto’s voice is shy and quiet, and he tightens his hold on Noctis as he takes a shuddering breath and listens as his best friend speaks.

 

“I love you guys, too…”

 

Gladio laughs once, a bitter thing.

 

“Guess we just have a messy thing goin’, huh? I’ve loved all of you for quite a while.”

 

Prompto just coughs, bewildered. He’s been in love with all three of them for as long as he’s known them, but hearing that they reciprocate his feelings is more than he had ever imagined. He blushes wildly, and Gladio laughs at his expression.

 

“You too, huh?”

 

He nods, face flaming and warm. Any more conversation is cut off as Gladio pulls into his space at the Citadel and hops out. Noctis takes some convincing, but soon they’re hurrying through the halls towards the infirmary. They’ve almost arrived when they see King Regis heading the same way, and Noctis breaks off, hurtling towards his father and slamming into him. Regis sighs sadly and wraps his arms around his only son, sharing a pointed look with Gladio towards the entrance to the infirmary. The young shield nods and pulls Prompto in, a warm hand resting on the blond’s shoulder as he guides him through the halls. Cor is waiting outside a door for them and simply moves out of the way when Gladio meets his eyes.

 

Inside, Ignis is still unconscious, and he’s been attached to various support machines. His skin is pale and tinged blue, but the most horrifying part is the foliage growing from his parted lips. Blooms are barely visible without looking directly down, but around him are ones that the doctors and nurses had pulled out to make it easier for the young man to breathe. Gladio curses quietly and Prompto whimpers, both of them hurrying to his side. 

 

Regis comes in a few minutes later with Noctis trailing him, his eyes watery and rimmed with red, his nose pink. The prince shuffles forward towards Ignis, his expression closed off and guarded even as he clambers onto the bed and curls against him. 

 

“Please wake up, Specs. Gotta tell you I love you so you can stop being so dense.”

 

Prompto chokes on a laugh that sounds more like a sob and finds himself wrapped up in Gladio’s arms, the four of them settling in to wait for Ignis to wake up.

  
  


❀❀❀

  
  


Ignis comes to slowly, his chest tight and throat mostly closed off. He doesn’t have his glasses on and there’s something pressed into his nostrils, but what’s most pressing, is the warm weight under his arm and across his stomach. He glances down with some effort and sees a blurry head of black hair stirring before bright blue eyes come into focus inches from his.

 

“Iggy?”

 

He tries to respond, but his throat convulses around stems of flowers, and he breaks into a coughing fit, his entire body shuddering. Voices surround him, but a warm arm wraps around him and Noctis nuzzles his forehead against Ignis’ shoulder, voice soft enough so that only Ignis can hear him.

 

“I’m sorry I made you hurt, Iggy… I love you so much.”

 

His eyes widen and suddenly something in his lungs release. Ignis chokes on the stems and coughs violently, lips spattered with specks of blood until someone with gloved hands pull gently and come away with a shriveling bundle of trailing rose vines. He gulps in a deep breath and wheezes, sinking back into Noctis’ hold as he’s guided down. Voices reach his ears, but he cannot understand what they’re saying, only that Gladio is beside him soon after he’s caught his breath, a huge, calloused hand cupping his cheek gently.

 

“You really scared the princess, Ignis… And me. Dunno what I’d do without you, ‘specially since I’m in love with you.”

 

Another release, another coughing fit, and another removed plant. Ignis’ front is splattered with coughed-up blood, and he’s dangerously light-headed, but he cannot help but look to Prompto, who has come into his line of sight shyly, a small smile on his lips.

 

“I never thought I could be one of the people… If I’d known… I would have told you so much sooner, but I love you too.”

 

Rinse and repeat, and soon, Ignis is gulping down air with three plants uprooted around him. His lungs feel lighter than they have in years, and tears sting his eyes when he realizes that he can breathe, he can truly breathe, because they love him back.

  
  


❀❀❀

  
  


A knock comes on his office door, and an “Enter” has barely left his lips when Prompto is slipping through the small crack of the open door. Ignis sighs, but smiles as the blond bounces over to him and leans down, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. He’s dressed in his Crownsguard uniform and hiding a hand behind his back, his grin tipping Ignis off to a surprise.

 

“To what do I owe this honor?”

 

Prompto just smiles wider and presents him with a small bouquet of carnations, his cheeks rosy. Ignis takes the bouquet and lifts a hand to cup Prompto’s cheek softly, a thumb stroking over his cheekbone as his office door swings open a little wider, Noctis and Gladio trailing in. 

 

The prince is dressed in his royal raiment and his shield in his own Crownsguard attire, having just come from a meeting with the council in the king’s stead while he was in Tenebrae as a council guest. The two close the door behind them and come to Ignis’ other side, greeting him with a kiss each and a playful scowl to Prompto before he gets a greeting as well.

 

“You were supposed to wait until we were here, Blondie.”

 

Prompto just smiles and leans over to tug on a stray lock of black hair before kissing Noctis’ cheek.

 

“Sorry, Noct. I got excited.”

 

Gladio just huffs and sits on Ignis’ desk, making him look up from the bouquet.

 

“Happy Anniversary, Iggy.”

  
  


❀❀❀

  
  


_ I left you in the morning,  _

_ And in the morning glow, _

_ You walked a way beside me _

_ To make me sad to go. _

_ Do you know me in the gloaming, _

_ Gaunt and dusty grey with roaming? _

_ Are you dumb because you know me not, _

_ Or dumb because you know? _

 

_ All for me? And not a question _

_ For the faded flowers gay _

_ That could take me from beside you _

_ For the ages of a day? _

_ They are yours, and be the measure  _

_ Of their worth for you to treasure, _

_ The measure of the little while _

_ That I’ve been long away. _

 

_ Robert Frost _

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese Language of Flowers : Hanakotoba  
> Western Language of Flowers: Floriography 
> 
> Gladio - purple gladiolus || grace, mystery, charm -- see it [here](http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1419/7120/products/Gladiolus_Purple_Flora.SHUT.jpg?v=1548805144)  
> Prompto - red poppy || fun-loving -- see it [here](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1766/2959/products/Poppy_Red_400x400.jpg?v=1536539032)  
> Noctis - white rose || love, devotion -- see it [here](https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/s6o0oNP74eOgSncfahbejN-uh9c=/0x0:5511x3640/1200x800/filters:focal\(3063x791:3943x1671\)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/58470249/492767389.jpg.0.jpg)
> 
> I loved writing this fic so much khdfbskdhfskdhfs 
> 
> I took the title vaguely from Robert Frost's poem "Flower-gathering" which is the poem at the end!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Leave me a comment if you feel so inclined! <3


End file.
